


That Day

by dustyfluorescent



Series: Not Holding Your Hand [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-27
Updated: 2011-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:54:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyfluorescent/pseuds/dustyfluorescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>How did I let this happen, how did I turn out so bad, what is wrong with me, something must be wrong with me because this man is</i> everything <i>to me</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Day

_cross my heart, hope to die  
it's my own cheating heart that makes me cry_

It's almost dark - it never is completely, not with the city so close, painting the sky when it's black, as if trying to cover up a secret of some sort. Arthur feels every inch of the night spreading around him, and it's like he's on fire, somehow. He wants to run away but he has no right, not anymore. Sometimes he needs to stop and wonder how he can bear it, being like this, how he can still be alive. After all this, he can't but hate his own person, what he's become, what he's been, and how he has to face it now.

"You were _it_ for me. I was done. And you broke me."

Merlin doesn't sound like he's hurting. He just speaks the words, like it's a fact, nothing at all to get emotional over. Arthur leans against his car, and looks at Merlin's lean figure blowing smoke towards the stars hidden by the city lights and shredded clouds, like dust over the good memories, the ones Arthur never wants to forget but already can't quite reach. He wonders how it's even possible that he hasn't ever really seen Merlin before. Guilt is an unbearable pain in his chest, and he thinks he doesn't want to be forgiven, because he doesn't deserve that. What he deserves is to keep hurting until he can't even manage to draw a breath anymore.

How did he not see what he had? How did he not see this man?

"Do you remember what it was like? Before?" Arthur asks. It's not really as much a question as it is a prayer of some sort - _please don't let him have forgotten, I need him to remember I was good, please don't ever let him not remember anymore._

"How could I forget."

"What happened to us?" The question doesn't really need an answer, though. It's not as much a question, either, as it is just a small, helpless plea towards something that seems so far away now, something that probably isn't anywhere for him to be found anymore, anyway. _I need to know what happened to what we could have been, and I need to know why it happened to us._

"You did," Merlin says, his voice broken and bitter.

That is the truth, and it breaks Arthur's heart, and the way Merlin says it is a stomp on the pieces. And no, he won't give himself the change to feel sorry for himself, because he had it, it was there, _he had him_ , he could have had everything for the rest of his life, and now he's there, leaning against his stupid car, watching this man who won't even look at him anymore, and for Merlin's sake Arthur hopes that he never will. Except that he can't quite bring himself to hope that, no matter how much he'd like to be noble like that; either way, whatever hurt Arthur gets is well deserved.

You like me too much, Arthur wants to tell Merlin. Don't like me too much.Why do you always like me too much; even though it really is Arthur who can't stop looking, and Merlin won't even turn his way.

I don't blame him, he thinks. I can't blame him. But God knows I want him, still.

The silence grows; it changes from uncomfortable to painful. Arthur looks away from Merlin's silhouette, because he's still facing the other way, and he doesn't want to see that. Arthur's waited for Merlin to agree to meet him for a long time. Now Merlin's finally there, but Arthur has never been further away from him; never has Merlin ever before felt further out of reach.

This is my doing, he thinks. I have brought this upon myself, and him. I can't bear it, and to think what I have done to him - but he's almost choking on his own horror, and he doesn't finish that thought. Arthur bites his lip and takes a deep breath. His whole body feels foreign. He's almost too nervous to stay there anymore, just standing; his knees are almost buckling; it's all almost too much to bear but it's not completely, so he just waits, every cell of his body aching with grief and guilt and just plain horror - what has been, now is, or ever will be; all of it seems unreal, and paralysing, somehow.

"You don't know me," Merlin finally says. Arthur can see it, he can feel it even though it's dark and they've not met for a long time - Merlin is nothing like before. _What if I killed him, what if I destroyed that what he used to be_ ; an unbearable thought because that, before, was _so wonderful_. Merlin looks at the darkening sky with sad eyes that refuse to meet Arthur's gaze. When he continues to talk, his voice is shaking a little.

"You don't know what I can do. You don't know what I can _be_. You don't know anything about me, and you have always thought I'm so easy to figure out. But I never trusted you enough. You don't know me, Arthur."

(Arthur can't help but think that's bollocks. Merlin's the most ordinary guy he has ever met, and he's pretty sure he's got him all figured out. He can't deny, though, that right now, he'd rather have this completely ordinary bloke over anyone, no matter how special; that Merlin means more to him than he could ever have expected, or could ever possibly admit. And that, despite being ordinary and very usual, Merlin is kind of a miracle.)

That's the first time Merlin's spoken Arthur's name, which kind of hurts and feels a bit wonderful at the same time. His name on Merlin's lips has still got a familiar ring to it, even though it's different. There's that biting tone Merlin's voice gets when he's annoyed with Arthur - he used to tease him just to hear him say his name like that - but it's serious now, sad and afraid, and Arthur is the one who put it there, the fear and the grief, and whatever. The affection, no matter how secret but _it was always there_ , is gone now. There's something he can't put his finger on, but it's too far beneath everything for him to reach. This is still Merlin, though, no matter how much he's changed, and just the way his own name sounds from those lips, because it's always the same, is enough. For a moment, he can't really see, so he blinks a few times and realises that in the midst of his ragged breaths, he is crying.

"I am so sorry, Merlin," he says, his voice shaky and small, even though he knows it's not really helping anymore. It never really would have, not after what he did. "You have no idea."

"I know you are," Merlin says. "But it doesn't matter."

"Please."

"I've made that mistake before, and I will not do it again."

"I love you," Arthur whispers, and when the words leave his lips, he is suddenly certain they're true.

Arthur can see Merlin stiffen.

Neither of them says anything for a long time. Merlin lights another cigarette, looking at Arthur from the corner of his eye; Arthur can tell. The corner of your eye, the one place you never want to look, the one place you really should always keep your eye on. That's where Arthur is hiding, but he's never felt more naked in his life. Then Merlin finally turns to face him. His face is bloodless, his shoulders slumped.

"Arthur."

Arthur isn't sure what it is, because it's so much more than just a name, for sure. It's a plea, maybe, it's not forgiveness but it's something a bit like that. And actually, pain, but somehow it still makes Arthur think that maybe Merlin thought about him, too, all this time.

"Did you ever love me?" he asks quietly, even though he knows that he doesn't want to hear the answer. He's got enough heartbreak for himself already, and whatever Merlin says can't fix that, it can only make it hurt more. Because Merlin might say no, and what could be worse? And if yes, then how could he ever bear with himself, having let it slip through his fingers? He closes his eyes, holding in a breath without even realising he's doing it.

"I never stopped," Merlin says instead, his voice weak, and Arthur's next breath is almost a shaky sob, really; because he can't live like this. He would rather die.

In the next heartbeat, it's painfully obvious. It's a thought he's kept from himself, behing locked doors, hidden somewhere very deep inside himself, and now it's suddenly there, staring him in the eye, and he can't deny it any longer. He can't live like this, looking at Merlin from afar, waking up every morning without him; not with this much love left. It would drain him, it would make every breath a battle of survival, and he doesn't want that. He can't forgive himself, and he doesn't think Merlin ever will, and that is too much. He thinks of Leon, and the idea of him is a punch in the stomach, kick under his belt, because maybe, _maybe_ he should have felt like this about him as well, but he didn't ever, not for one second, and he realises this might just be what love means and that this is the first time he's ever had it, the love, and it was good, and then he ruined it because of something that never mattered to him at all.

"You say that," Arthur mutters. Merlin lets out a choked laugh that's not as much amused as it is nervous.

"I do," Merlin says, his eyes full of an emotion, _something_ , Arthur can't bear to look at him long enough to tell. And maybe he wouldn't see it, anyway; maybe he never bothered to really get to know Merlin well enough. He was always so busy pretending he knew best. "That's how it is, Arthur. And that's why I won't come back to you. I want it to end, and it never will if I don't get away from you. It may never end, anyway. But I can't take it if you break me again."

"I wouldn't."

"You would."

"And still, you love me."

"Of course I do."

Those words, Arthur thinks, should be his undoing, but he's so broken already, so fed up with himself, that he just stares at Merlin, teary-eyed, breathing heavily, a foreign weight inside of him. An ache in his chest that he knows won't ever really go away. Regret, blaring through the spectrum of his emotions, a fireball of hurt and _how did I let this happen, how did I turn out so bad, what is wrong with me, something must be wrong with me because this man is_ everything _to me_.

"Don't you have anything to say?" Merlin mutters, almost disappointed, when the silence has once again grown impossible to bear.

"No, I just- I don't know where to start."

And he doesn't, even though he's still got the world to say; he wants to tell Merlin absolutely everything he's thought about ever since _that day_. There had been fury, blind rage, just fear that everything would fall apart, and he had needed to blame someone, just anyone, because _it can't be my fault every single time_. And the way Merlin had looked - _haven't the faintest_ \- tired, disappointed, hurt, completely cheated. Not even that scared, really, but completely done with everything in the world. That's when he had really, truly realised who it had been, slumped at his feet, bleeding, choking down his tears, breathing like it were the hardest thing in the universe to do, looking up at Arthur, looking him in the eye, silently asking _are you done yet_. I am done, Arthur had thought when the uneasy lump in his throat had dissolved into sobs; I am done, for the rest of my life I am done hurting you, because you are wonderful. There, he had seen Merlin, really; better than anybody Arthur had ever known, better than Arthur could ever dream of being.

 _Come here, love_ , Merlin had said, and Arthur had done, kneeling next to him, clinging to him like his life had depended on it. Maybe it had, it probably had, Arthur wouldn't know, wouldn't remember. Frankly, it feels like endless eternities ago.

When Merlin had asked him to leave, he had done just that. After this, he had thought, the only thing I can give to him is to leave when he wants me to.

"You really aren't fine, are you," Merlin mutters, knitting his brows. Arthur isn't sure if it's worry or just frustration, but it's something, and he can't help but think, _hope_ , that it means something, too. Merlin lifts his hand a little as if to touch Arthur, but then decides against it, and as the hand drops back to Merlin's side without reaching him, Arthur breaks a little bit more. That's going to keep happening, he realises. Whatever happens next, the breaking will never end.

"No, I'm not fine at all," Arthur says, even though he has no right, but he's already said it before he has any time to think.

"Good," Merlin says, but he doesn't sound like he means it at all.

"Yeah?" Arthur mutters, in spite of himself. He realises he sounds bitter.

Merlin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. There's another long silence, during which Arthur doesn't really breathe at all. His hands are shaking. He desperately wants a cigarette, _needs_ one, but he doesn't have any, and he doesn't want to ask for one. So he just looks at Merlin, admires the way the dim light plays with his features, and he sees the tears in Merlin's eyes when he finally opens them and looks through him. Merlin swallows and licks his lips, anxious.

"No, not really."

This man has no mercy, is the first thing that comes to Arthur's mind. The way Merlin looks right now - hurt, confused and very young, but still somehow cold and very, very far away - just has to be a punishment of some kind, because this isn't fair to anyone, and Arthur might be a bad person or at least a person who's made a horrible mistake ( _again_ , he can't help but think), but nobody deserves _this_.

"Oh my God, _Merlin_ ," he manages to choke out, and then presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, because he's cried enough already, thank you very much. Everything feels heavy, and when Merlin rests his hand on Arthur's shoulder, he pulls away, because he can't take this anymore. "Aren't you done punishing me already?"

"I'm not _punishing_ you, Arthur."

"Yes, you are, and you know it."

"Arthur."

"Please stop lying to me. I can't bear this anymore."

"I'm not lying," Merlin mutters, biting his lip. He's stepped closer again, but this time Arthur doesn't move away. He probably should, but he really doesn't want to. He's missed Merlin, and now Merlin is standing close enough to him for Arthur to feel his breath on his skin, and he doesn't want that to end. He's cold without Merlin there; just cold all the time and nothing really explains it. He doesn't feel the world like he used to, not after he met Merlin and then lost him. His life has become a struggle, because he hasn't ever missed anyone as tremendously as he does Merlin. It isn't right for him to feel like that, though, because Arthur hurt Merlin, broke any little trust they ever had, ruined whatever good things they could have had. But the love is still there, for him and maybe for Merlin, too. And that makes things all the more difficult, because now that they're there and Merlin sighs and presses his forehead against Arthur's, and Arthur cups Merlin's face and strokes his cheekbones with his thumbs, and neither speaks, Arthur can't pretend he doesn't feel it. He's done trying to convince himself it's over, that there's nothing left, that there maybe never was anything at all to begin with, because it's all there now, and Merlin's shaky breaths are warm against his lips, and he smells familiar, _feels_ familiar, and then they kiss, because they have no choice.

At first, the kiss is chaste and soft, just a gentle _I missed you_ , but it changes. Merlin wraps his arms around Arthur's waist and pulls them closer together, and it quickly becomes _I love you and want you and will never ever leave you_ and _I'm sorry I hurt you I will never forgive myself for doing that to you because you really are a miracle_ and _no this is not a good idea but we can think about it later_ and _I have no idea why he hasn't pushed me away already_ and _this can't ever change_. Arthur runs his fingers through Merlin's hair, gently, wondering; holds on to him for dear life. After a long, lingering, blissful moment, they finally stop for breath, still clinging on to each other, staring at each other in awe and fear. Arthur looks at Merlin's face; a light flush on his cheeks, feverish eyes, and a careful smile playing in the corner of his mouth. Arthur gently runs his finger over a scar under Merlin's left eye, a scar that wasn't there before, and then suddenly realises why it's there, because _oh Lord have mercy_ he was wearing his ring that day, like he always is. For a brief second, he wants to throw that ring away. It's the only memento he has of his mother, and for a moment, he doesn't ever want to see it again.

"That was you," Merlin whispers, staring at Arthur with frightening intensity.

"I know." He presses a gentle kiss on the scar, just to remind himself that he doesn't ever want to do anything like that again. "I'm sorry."

Merlin blinks. "Of course you are." It sounds almost sincere.

"Hey... I missed you," Arthur says.

Merlin smiles weakly and buries his face in Arthur's neck. For a moment, it almost bothers Arthur that he can't see Merlin's face now, but then he finally feels Merlin's hot tears against his skin, and forgets all about that. He just wants to hold him now, so he pulls him closer, holding on tighter than he probably should. He doesn't care, though, because he feels that he might get lost if he ever lets go; he might end up somewhere very far away and never find Merlin again. Merlin doesn't seem to mind. Arthur listens to his muffled sobs against his neck, and draws a shaky breath. Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_. He can't seem to think about anything else now. He's all that matters now. Arthur doesn't know what this is, but he can't help but wonder if he might actually get him back.

Somewhere very deep inside himself Arthur realises that it's not completely healthy to depend quite this much on a person that could so easily crush him. He doesn't really care, though, so he stomps on the realisation and hopes that it'll go away. He's hurt Merlin before, and maybe, if Merlin decided to do the same to him, he would deserve it. This isn't healthy, he knows, but he doesn't mind. He won't mind. He is in no place to mind. Instead, he holds on to Merlin while he weeps, trying his hardest to pretend he isn't crying.

It takes a while. They just stand there, holding onto each other like it's the only way they'll ever survive anything (and maybe it is, Arthur can't help but think, as these vague feelings and ideas float around him, run him over, and almost suffocate him; maybe it is the only way I'll ever have another day where it isn't a struggle to keep breathing). It takes a while, but finally they break apart, looking at each other, feeling a bit cold in the chill night air they've failed to notice before now. Arthur feels like he sees Merlin for the first time. Not that he sees him any differently; it just feels a little bit more meaningful now. This man is a miracle, he thinks, and I need to never forget it, ever.

"Come home with me," Arthur blurts out before he has any time to think whether he should say that. That's what he always does, talking before thinking, and that's stupid and he really needs to work on that.

"Your place?" Merlin asks before Arthur gets to thinking about any worst case scenarios. He just nods, and he's worried, because he has no idea what Merlin is really asking. What Merlin thinks, wants, asks of him, is of utmost importance to Arthur, because right now, he would chop his arm off to make up for what he's done. His head is a whirlwind of fears and regrets and penetrating painful thoughts and misery, all the while Merlin looks at him, face tilted, with an unreadable expression on his face. Arthur doesn't want to let go, so he holds on to Merlin, waiting; holds his breath and just hopes that there's something for him yet.

"I would be better off never seeing you again," Merlin whispers in his ear. "But I don't want that."

Arthur feels selfish like never before for not wanting that, either. For now, he lets it go.

**Author's Note:**

> If you think this is it, you're wrong. I can't possibly let them be happy, you know.
> 
> Lyrics: Glasvegas - It's My Own Cheating Heart That Makes Me Cry


End file.
